


Three Strikes

by bythunder



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Recreational Drug Use, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 23:13:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11977095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bythunder/pseuds/bythunder
Summary: When Theon sees Sansa crying in the park on Prom Night, he does what he can to save her evening.





	Three Strikes

It feels like he should’ve grown out of this phase of his life by now. Smoking pot in the park in the middle of the night just felt juvenile. But what the fuck else was there to do in this town on a Saturday night? Two years ago he would’ve been at the Stark house, kicking Robb’s ass at Mortal Kombat, but then Robb went off to the Riverlands for college and barely comes home anymore. Which is why Theon finds himself here, with Kyra and Ramsay and his ‘boys’, Damon and Yellow Dick and that weird little man everyone just calls Reek. It was better than being alone, or so he told himself anyway.

“Oh my gods,” Kyra said, pointing across the field. “Get a look at the marshmallow!”

They all turned to see what she was giggling at. A puff of pretty pink was sitting on the swing set, it did look a lot like a marshmallow. Or a wisp of cotton candy. Something soft and delicate and sweet.

“Hey Princess!” Ramsay shouted at the shape on the swings. A girl. Well, duh, it’s a girl. Theon should’ve realized it right away, it was prom night for all the little high schoolers. Looks like someone pulled the short straw and got dumped at the dance. Poor kid.

“C’mon, sweetheart.” Ramsay whistled at her the same way he called for his dogs. “Don’t be shy.”

“…leave her alone.”

Ramsay turned his cold eyes from his prey to him. He was unused to being contradicted by anyone, particularly Theon. But something told Theon not to let this slide tonight, not to let Ramsay at this one. “She probably just got dumped, man. Plus, high schooler. She’s not even legal.”

Slowly, a wicked smirk spread across Ramsay’s wormy features. “Even better. I love jailbait on the rebound.” He passed his joint off to Reek as he started towards the playground.

A hand shot out and gripped his upper arm. It took Theon a minute to realize it was his. “—Let me have her.”

“You want at her?”

Theon nodded, his mouth too dry to form a proper lie. All he wanted was to get at her first, warn her to go home where it’s safer. He didn’t know exactly that Ramsay would hurt her, but it was hard to ignore the rumors… and Theon didn’t need a missing girl on his conscience.

“Alright, Greyjoy,” Ramsay said. “If you let me have a go at Kyra.”

Theon looked back at her, still bent over laughing at the Marshmallow’s distress. They’d been hanging out for a while now, but it was more friends-with-benefits than anything serious. By any means, they definitely weren’t exclusive. “That’s up to her,” Theon said with a shrug before walking across the park to the swings, hopefully projecting a lot more confidence than he felt.

“Hey—” Yeah, she’s crying. Crap, Theon had never been any good with crying women. He tried again, a little louder. “Hey.”

“Theon?”

He approached slowly. “Sansa, is that you?” He heard her delicate sniffles, as she turned her face away from him. “I thought your prom was tonight.” She was in a pale pink gown, no duh prom was tonight. So why was she sitting in the park, crying in the dark?

“Y-yeah, but, it was lame, so I—” She was interrupted by her own sob. Theon sighed. He’d always been uncomfortable with expressions of emotion, but there was no way he could leave her alone here as vulnerable as she was. Ned would be so disappointed in him if he let anything happen to his daughter and Robb would probably knock his teeth out. Or, Robb would, if he ever bothered to come back home every once in a while.

“Yeah, my prom sucked too. All over-hyped, so there’s no way it can ever live up to expectations, right?” He gave a half-hearted laugh, but Sansa just gave another quivering sigh. “Do, uh… you wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.” Sansa dabbed at her runny nose and wiped the mess on her skirts. “—Did Joffrey ever even like me? I mean, we’ve been together since freshman year. He had to like me for a little bit at least. Didn’t he?”

“Uhh…” Theon wasn’t sure if he was supposed to talk here or what she expected him to say. He’d never met her boyfriend, but he did remember a few offhand comments Robb made about the Little Blond Dickweasel. The impression was not a favorable one.

“He rented a hotel room for tonight and didn’t even tell me. I don’t want to— to do  _that_ , but when I told him I’m not ready, he got really mad at me. He called me a prude and a tease and— Is that really all boys want, Theon?”

He found himself on the receiving end of her intense, blue-eyed stare. He knew what she wanted to hear, that true love and knights in shining armor existed and the right man would be willing to wait forever for a girl like her. But he couldn’t make his mouth form the words. It’s not that he didn’t want to comfort her, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie either. From his experience, most guys tend to think with the wrong head, himself included, maybe worst of all. Damn it, he didn’t want to be responsible for ruining her hopeless romanticism.

“We didn’t even get to slow dance!” Sansa continued without his answer. She ripped the rose corsage off her wrist and stamped it into the dirt with her pink satin heel.

Now that, Theon could help her with. He couldn’t give her relationship advice, he couldn’t change the fact that her boyfriend was a sleazebag, but he’d be damned if Sansa Stark didn’t get to slow dance on her prom night. He reached for her bag on the swing beside her and pulled out her phone. It only took a couple of swipes to find what he was looking for. “Come on, get up.”

She looked up at him with her red rimmed eyes. “What? Why?”

“Just stand up,” he said, taking her by the hand and pulling her to her feet. “It’s your prom night and you’re all dressed up. You ought to have at least one proper dance tonight.” He put a hand respectably high on her waist and started to sway as a slow ballad by some nameless boy band began to play.

“Theon, you really don’t—”

“I know, but humor me here.” He pulled her closer and lead her in a simple box step, the way his mother taught him when he was small. “You can stand on my feet if you like.”

Sansa rolled her eyes dramatically. “I’m not a little girl anymore.” Still, she followed his lead and rested her head on his shoulder as they gently moved to the music.

Romantic. This was almost romantic. Like a scene from one of those girly movies Sansa loved so much. Slow dancing under the stars. Her, dressed like a princess, even if he looked nothing like a prince, half-baked in his thriftstore hoodie. Her breath tickled his neck as she sighed softly, but it was a good sound, content, not warbly with tears anymore. It occurred to him that he could kiss her now, just a duck of the head and he could reach her lips. And she might even let him, a thank you for rescuing the most important night of her high school career. He never let himself linger on the thoughts, because she was still a little young then, but he’d always found Sansa pretty. Everyone found Sansa pretty, but in weaker moments, Theon hoped maybe… Well, he’d always wanted to be a Stark, after all.

But before he could move, the song gave way to a series of obnoxious ads and Sansa had stepped out of his arms. “Thanks, Theon. I’m feeling better now. You can go back to your friends if you like.”

Theon glanced over his shoulder to where Ramsay and the others were. He really didn’t want to go back over there. They weren’t even really his friends. They were just… there, and they didn’t mind him hanging around, and shit, it was better than being lonely all the damn time. “Nah, it’s fine, Sansa. I was about to head home anyway.”

“Oh, alright…”

“Do you have a curfew tonight?” He asked. Ramsay’s wolf whistle made him nervous. Theon might’ve claimed dibs, but if Ramsay was getting bored or impatient, who knows what games he’d start to play.

“I have to be home before midnight.”

“Right, okay.” The screen on her phone told him it was nearly 11:30 already. He shut down her music app, and for good measure, changed the background from a picture of her, with her face smooshed against her boyfriend’s, to one of her dog Lady, before storing it back in her clutch. “Let me walk you home.”

“You don’t have to…”

“It’s on my way.” They both knew that was a lie, but Sansa didn’t protest when he took her by the hand and led her out of the park. She held on to him, even after they crossed the baseball diamonds, passed the fences, walked up the empty street. That little bit of human contact, it was nice. One of those things you take for granted till it’s not there anymore. Whatever he got up to with Kyra didn’t count, not in the same way.

She finally released his hand, he was reluctant to let it go, but he soon saw why she did. She rubbed at her arms, smoothing down the goosebumps that had popped up across her skin. Idiot, it was cold out. Spring weather might heat up the days well enough, but the temperatures still dropped low at night. He was chilly in just his hoodie and she had nothing to protect her except a gauzy little shawl draped over her shoulders.

“Hang on.” Theon stopped short to fiddle with the broken zipper. He pulled the sweatshirt off and draped it carefully over her shoulders, running his hands slowly across her upper arms to create a little friction. She looked up at him through her painted lashes. That window was opening again. If he were to reach up and brush the curls away from her face, if he lingered just a moment longer… He wondered if her lips tasted as bubblegum pink as they looked.

He never did decide if he even wanted to find out, because Sansa pulled away from him to slip her arms through the sleeves of his sweatshirt. The contrast between his holey jumper and her pristine gown should have looked ridiculous, but on her it was charming, adorable. Particularly because Theon couldn’t ever recall her wearing something like that before. Never anything less than perfectly put together. He almost expected her to turn her nose up at his offer, go cold rather than be caught dead in the ratty old thing. But instead, she snuggled deeper into its warmth.

They walked the rest of the way to the Stark house in comfortable silence, side by side but never again crossing the threshold back to touch. She was content with her hands tucked into his sleeves and Theon pretended to be warmer than he was by keeping his fists balled up in the front pocket of his jeans. It was alright, though. He didn’t mind sacrificing a little for Sansa. She was always nice to him, no matter how obnoxious he’d been, and she was the kind of person that made people want to do nice things in return.  Theon could do with a little more niceness in his life.

“Thank you, Theon,” Sansa broached when they stopped just outside her front door. Her fingers nervously twisted the cuffs of his sweatshirt. “For walking me home. And for the dance, too.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he dismissed with a shrug. “I hope your night wasn’t completely ruined.”

She smiled up at him, still a little shy, but it was sincere when she said, “It’s a lot better now, thanks to you.”

She did that fluttery thing with her eyelashes, and he could feel it coming around again. One last chance to kiss her and claim her and fall happily head over heels and carry her off into the sunset like she’s always dreamed about. Carefully, like one approaches a skittish colt, Theon lifted his hand to her cheek, brushed away a curl stiff with hairspray. She closed her eyes and tilted her face towards his.

The sound of the front door opening broke the spell. “Sansa? Theon, what are you doing here?” In a perfect sitcom cliché, the pretty girl’s dad is there waiting to discourage any funny business, though thankfully, Ned kept his guns locked out in the shed. Theon was grateful to be spared the sight of a shotgun barrel in his face.

“Theon was just walking me home, Dad.”

“What happened to Joffrey?”

“We’re not going out anymore,” she said and her voice didn’t falter one bit.

“Oh… Well, come inside. It’s late.”

“Just a second, okay?” Sansa ushered her dad back into the house. They were alone again, but it didn’t matter now. It was over. Theon had his chance, more than one, but it was alright. Sansa Stark was never meant to be his. She was too good for him, she deserved her Prince Charming, and Theon was neither. “I really mean it, Theon. You saved my whole night.” It was a quick gesture, a sisterly peck on the cheek, but she kissed him all the same, before wishing him goodnight and disappearing beyond the door.

“You blew it, Greyjoy,” he scolded himself as he descended the porch stairs, away from the light and the sanctuary of the Starks. It was just a silly dream anyway, a child’s fantasy. Even if he had had the courage to kiss her, it would never have worked out. She was too good for him, she had aspirations and potential, and he, he would just hold her back. It was better this way. At least in his fantasy, they could have a happy ending together.


End file.
